


Not A Question Of Merit

by Gay_Jesus_Probably



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Dick Jokes, Internalized Homophobia, Jeremy does not understand how to Feelings, M/M, Michael is oblivious to Jeremy's minor crisis, the Squip doesn't understand whats gotten into jeremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gay_Jesus_Probably/pseuds/Gay_Jesus_Probably
Summary: Jeremy was not interested in Michael Mell. All he wanted to do was work on a school project, find out if Mell had learned anything incriminating while stalking Jeremy, and play some video games. That was it. That was the only reason he agreed to come over to his house.It got a little out of hand.-Or, the chapter 1 scene in Meek Shall Inherit of Jeremy and Michael hanging out in Michael's basement, but from Jeremy's POV.





	Not A Question Of Merit

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [meek shall inherit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050354) by [yellow_caballero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_caballero/pseuds/yellow_caballero). 



> Shout out to Nymm_at_night for encouraging me to write this and helping with some minor editing, and also to yellow_caballero for writing meek shall inherit, because god damn that's such a good fic.  
> Enjoy Jeremy being a human disaster lmao.

_“Really Jeremy. You’re breaking a three year streak. For Michael fucking Mell._ ”

“Oh, stop it. It’s not like he’ll be able to tell anyone that I was playing video games at his place and have them believe him. Besides, it’s bonding. The whole point of agreeing to this project was to get closer to him and find out what he knows. This will be fine.” He said, half trying to convince himself. He’d agreed to play video games at Michael Mell’s house for no reason other than manipulating him. Really. No personal interest at all.

 _God_ it had been too long since he’d been able to game with someone. He couldn’t wait to tell Rich about this. Solo gaming just wasn’t the same, not with how little Jeremy earned it these days. He was out of practice every time.

 _“Left turn, fifth driveway on the right. Yes, that one.”_ The Squip instructed, its irritation shifting into something more bored as it gave Jeremy the directions. He did as he was told, and made the turn, pulling into the correct driveway.

Michael’s house didn’t look like anything special. Just a normal suburban house, albeit in an older neighborhood. Copycat houses, but several dozen designs of them, distributed around so the neighborhoods looked varied. Make a pattern long enough, and any casual observer would assume it was random.

He knocked on the door.

“Michael! Your little gay Ubermensch is here!” A woman called. Leaning against the side of the house, the Squip raised an eyebrow. Jeremy silently agreed. That… was a new one.

A somewhat flustered looking Michael swung the door open a moment later, and then did a double take at the sight of Jeremy. That was good. He’d gone slightly outside his usual prep fashion today, instead going for jeans, flannel, and a simple T-shirt. All designer, of course, but the outfit was closer to something Jeremy would have chosen for himself. With any luck, it would help endear him to Michael.

...To gain his trust and find out what he knew. Right. Those were his motives.

A woman poked her head around the hallway, holding a spatula. She looked deeply amused, and was clearly Michael’s mother.

“How long have you two been standing there staring at each other?” She asked, grinning slightly.

“Mom!”

 _“It did look pretty stupid.”_ The Squip said cheerfully.

Jeremy squeaked, and then immediately hated himself for it. Quick, recover from being an idiot!

“So! Project?” He said cheerfully, ruffling his hair, and giving a smile that was nice, yet relaxed. Michael was obnoxiously gay, and not exactly subtle in his stalking of Jeremy. A bit of plausibly deniable flirting would go a long way.

“Yes! School! I love it!” Michael said, clearly lying.

“Really?”

“I refuse to backtrack on my hastily taken convictions. That’s the Michael way!”

“...Okay?”

He was a disaster. Jeremy kind of liked it.

Clearly, Michael was well aware of how rapidly the conversation was spiraling, as he elected to herd Jeremy inside and into the basement without further commentary. They descended the stairs, and Jeremy froze the second his foot hit the floor.

Michael’s basement was covered in weird shit. Clumsy metal sculptures, awkward glass ornaments, an uneven cabinet, all clearly handmade. In the corner, draped over a mannequin was what looked like cosplays in progress. The walls were lined with shelves of comic books, video games, and figurines. It was embarrassing. It was nerdy.

“It’s amazing.” Jeremy said, and he genuinely meant it.

His room had looked something like this, a lifetime ago. He hadn’t realised that he missed it.

Michael ducked his head, but Jeremy could see a smile forming before he did. It was a nice smile, the kind that made Jeremy want to match it.

“Welcome to Casa de Michael. In that corner we have failed arts and crafts projects, and in this corner we have failed attempts at a life. But very successful attempts at video games.”

Yeah, he wasn’t kidding. There were _so_ many. Not even Jeremy had owned that many, and he’d been a pathetic nerd before the Squip had found him.

It was incredible, and Jeremy found himself wandering around the edges of the room, looking at all the things, unable to stop himself. The Squip said nothing, just leaned against an open space of wall and watched impassively.

Jeremy hardly noticed the Squip, or the sounds of Michael setting up their things at the table. He was too engrossed by all the figurines, the memorabilia, the artwork. It was incredible.

He loved it.

The metal sculptures were impressive, and he stopped to squint at an extra nice on. Abstract, but the swooping lines gave the impression of reaching, or freedom. He wasn’t sure. Jeremy didn’t really do art analysis. It looked amazing though.

“You made this?” He asked, almost surprised that someone could do that with their hands.

“I took a few summer courses. No biggie.”

Summer art courses. God, Jeremy wished he could do that. But summers were the only time Jeremy (and by extension, the Squip) could dedicate all their time to operations. Usually, that meant putting down resistance from the Middlebury students, and handling any outside investigations. Friends and siblings who got concerned and suspicious, and came poking around for answers.

He had nightmares of that sometimes, holding down another struggling teenager, and forcing a Squip down their throats. Seeing their eyes go empty and dead, and watching them leave like nothing had happened.

Jeremy hated it. What he wouldn’t give to be able to take a metal sculpting class, like a normal kid. Using his break to try something new, instead of managing spies, rebellions, and punishments.

Still. He was doing the right thing. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. If the Squip said it was good, then it was good.

“That was my final project. It makes me kind of nervous to look at it.” Michael said, and the Squip prevented Jeremy from flinching in surprise. The loser had gotten close without him noticing.

“Totally.” He said, putting on an awed tone, even if he wasn’t sure which one Michael was talking about. They were all good sculptures anyways.

His eyes drifted to one of the bookshelves, and he perked up automatically.

“Hey, are those Green Lantern rings?”

“If by Green Lantern rings you mean Green Lantern rings, a Flash ring, and a Legion of Superheroes ring, then duh!”

Holy shit. Jeremy had found nirvana.

It took an embarrassingly long time to get to work, Jeremy constantly being distracted with various comic books and figurines. Most of them, he already knew, even if the memories were dulled by the last few years, but Jeremy Heere couldn’t admit to having a near encyclopedic knowledge of nerd shit. Instead, he asked Michael what they were, and enjoyed just hearing someone talk about things he used to love, even if it was knowledge he already knew.

There was something in his chest, something warm and bright, and it was a terrifying deviation from his now-familiar numbness, but at the same time it felt almost nice. Like putting frostbite-numb hands in front of a heater. Painful, but much needed defrosting.

 _“You should get down to business, or he’s going to find out you’re a loser.”_ The Squip pointed out, right as always. Jeremy was quick to shift them to the table to work, and stay on topic. The Squip helped by giving him small jolts when his attention threatened to wander.

Still, they’d fallen into more comfortable conversation, and Jeremy felt more animated than usual while they worked. The Squip made his work perfect as always, but Michael’s ideas weren’t completely horrible either. It’s almost nice, talking about a school project like this. Him and Michael fall into a surprisingly natural back and forth - the Squip barely needs to tell him what to say at all. It felt natural, in the way that almost nothing did anymore.

And then there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Jeremy suddenly realised how awful his posture had gotten, how much his mask had slipped, and was quick to pull himself back together. Sit up straight, structure his expression into relaxed but friendly. Fall back into the role he always played.

He was back to normal by the time Michael’s mom came downstairs.

“Are you staying for dinner, Jeremy?”

No, he was not. He was here to watch Michael, not his family. He put on a smile (nice, but shy - normal for a teenager speaking to a peer’s parent for the first time), and rubbed the back of his neck.

“My dad’s making meatloaf. He gets on my case when I don’t finish my plate, so I better starve myself.” Switch the smile to a conspiratory grin. “Only way I can actually eat it.”

This was a lie. His father hadn’t cooked in years, and had long since gotten used to Jeremy doing it for him. Dinner tonight would be… whatever the Squip said he should eat. Not meatloaf.

Mrs. Mell said something in a different language, and Michael choked. The Squip helpfully translated, and Jeremy choked as well.

Straight from the white boy factory? Well, that was… kind of what the Squip wanted him to look like anyways. So. Mission accomplished? Jeremy was taking this as a hesitant victory.

“Mom, don’t be rude!” Michael hissed, a faint red tinge appearing on his neck.

“Honey, please. I’m never rude for free.” She said cheerfully, giving Jeremy a wink. “You two have fun now!”

Jeremy liked her.

She reminded him of the Squip a little. There was the same teasing sense of humour, but her’s came across… nicer, somehow. Less harsh.

She seemed like she’d be a fun parent to have. Certainly better than either of Jeremy’s.

“Your mom’s really cool.” He said, aware that a somewhat genuine smile had appeared on his face again, but lacking the energy to wipe it off and plaster on a fake one again.

“Ugh, she’s the worst.” Michael complained, slouching back over his laptop and tapping out a few more lines. Really, his posture was just awful. He should be ashamed.

After some quick typing, he looked up again.

“Are your parents like that too?”

Jeremy froze, smile turning rigid.

A cool hand pressed against his back, digital, but real enough for him.

 _“Easy now. Don’t freak out on him.”_ The Squip said, its voice soothing, with a faint warning tone underneath. _“Don’t talk about your worthless parents then. Just talk about me.”_

Good plan. That was good.

“Not really. She reminds me of someone else who raised me, though. He’s really awesome.”

_“Good. Keep it vague. Remember, we want information on him, not to give him more ammo against us.”_

“Yeah? Like your grandpa or something?”

Well, sometimes…

_“ **No.** ”_

“He’s really awesome.” Jeremy repeated, mentally scrambling to pacify the Squip.

“Okay…” Michael said, dragging the word out slowly, suspicion obvious. “Here, what do you think about this quote?”

They fell back into work, and Jeremy was relieved. Awkward personal questions had been safely dodged, and the Squip was calmed.

It took a few more hours to finish, and Jeremy could see Michael’s attention flagging, the other teenager quickly growing bored. Jeremy had long since gotten used to doing schoolwork with the Squip, and letting his mind go somewhere else while it laid out all the right answers. He just focused on the conversation between him and Michael, and the Squip pressed up against his back, a constant, calming presence.

By the time they were done, Michael had been bouncing his leg for a while, and Jeremy was ready to tear Michael’s leg off. It was incredibly infuriating. Mostly because Jeremy wasn’t allowed to bounce his own leg. Or play with his hair, or crack his knuckles, or fidget in any way, shape or form. Some days he felt like he was going to explode from energy, and it took the Squip intervening to keep him still.

“So, you want to go home, or you still up for those video games?” Michael asked, sounding almost hesitant.

Jeremy was still up for those video games. Jeremy was _very_ up for those video games. He’d been thinking about them since Michael invited him over. He’d been looking forwards to this for _days_.

He felt a real grin spreading across his face.

“Sure!”

Jeremy had never played on an SNES before, even with his shameful past as a nerd. The controller felt strange in his hands, but most controllers did these days. He still picked it up quickly, though at the Squip’s instructions he pretended to be completely incompetent, and to need Michael’s help figuring out a good grip and where the shoulder buttons were. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing, but he had to throw Michael off the scent.

To his surprise (and minor bemusement), the Squip was fairly interested in the game as well, and insisted on giving instructions at random moments. Despite Jeremy repeatedly telling it to stop backseat playing, and tossing out some friendly insults. It found him funny instead of belligerent, so it was okay.

After that, they switched to Smash Bros, which Jeremy knew for a fact he was excellent at, albeit somewhat out of practice. At the Squip’s orders, he once again failed on purpose, which was a little grating. That was balanced out by the fact that he was playing video games at all, so he was happy anyways.

Also, it was pretty funny to see Michael being visibly pained at Jeremy’s supposed incompetence, so that was something. Even if he did kick his ass in what could have easily been a fair fight.

“Is this the first time you’ve experienced getting owned? What’s it like? Are you dizzy?” Michael asked, dramatically reaching over to try and take his temperature. Jeremy laughed, and knocked his hand away. “Some slight nausea is a typical side effect of getting completely rekt.”

“I’m doing my best,” Jeremy said with laughter in his voice, purposefully steering Mewtwo closer to the edge, while making it look like an incompetent coincidence. “I’m going to wreck you next.”

Michael physically winced as Jeremy mangled the slang. Really, the satisfaction of pulling off a subtle trolling like this was a victory in of itself.

“Dude, it’s rekt, not wreck.” He said, sounding faintly pained.

“What’s the difference?” Jeremy asked, the picture of innocent confusion. Behind him, the Squip cackled, as Michael closed his eyes and sighed.

“Don’t worry about it, Prepmeister. Come on, we’re hitting Cornelia next.”

Wait, what?

“Did you just call me Prepmeister?” Jeremy asked, feeling somewhat disbelieving.

_“He really did. This is incredible.”_

“Oh, I got more where that came from. Prepatory School, Prep II: Son of Prep, Preppin’ my way downtown, Prep me up inside.”

Jeremy gaped. Really, he wasn’t used to being teased by people who weren’t the Squip or Rich. Nobody else was allowed to get away with it.

“How many derogatory nicknames do you have for me?”

“You really don’t want me to answer that question.”

Jeremy stared at him for a moment. The idea that Michael Mell, a creepy stalker he had barely spoken with, could dislike him enough to make up an endless stack of insulting nicknames for hm was…

Kind of stung a little.

_“Hey Prepmeister, you’re worrying him.”_

The Squip using the word Prepmeister was enough to break through the mild hurt Jeremy felt, and he cracked up, falling into laughter. It wasn’t his usual fake, perfectly structured laugh, but something more genuine, a little high and breathy, a little imperfect, a lot ugly. Most things were ugly about Jeremy, he was just good at keeping them hidden. Michael had already seen more of him this afternoon than most people got to see ever.

It was nice.

As his laughter trailed off, Michael opened up Steam, and loaded up Super Shooter Sublimation 2.

Jeremy gasped happily before he could stop himself.

“Rich plays this game sometimes!”

Jeremy played it too. He played it almost any time he was allowed to play video games, often with Rich, sometimes alone. He even had a friend in it, Pell Mell, who was literally the best on the server. The Squip didn’t let him talk to them often, but it was nice to have someone to vent to that didn’t know who Jeremy was, and was completely uninvolved in the web of conspiracies that the Squip was planning.

Though, playing with Michael meant that he couldn’t actually play, not really. He’d have to suck again.

Maybe there’d be more opportunities to butcher slang terms. That was pretty funny.

He pretended to fumble around on the main menu, and try to figure out what did what, waiting to Michael to notice his seeming distress and intervene. Sure enough, he soon looked over, sighed, and began explaining the buttons to him.

Jeremy ignored the explanation, smiling and nodding at the right places. He didn’t need to be told how to do something he could already do.

When it was done, Michael opened up the two player map screen, and Jeremy froze.

Holy shit.

Holy shit Michael’s gamer tag.

 _Holy shit Michael was Pell Mell_.

“Holy fuck, you’re Pell Mell?” He breathed out, words turning almost questioning at the end, Jeremy almost unable to believe it. Michael looked concerned and suspicious.

“Why do you know my gaming handle?”

“You’re the number one player on the server. You won the tournament last month!”

“I skipped school for it. Also, wait. What?”

“I’m Robot Jones!” Jeremy blurted out, excitement overriding good sense. “We’re - we talk online sometimes!”

Michael’s jaw dropped. Jeremy knew the feeling.

His head was practically buzzing now, excitement and adrenaline buzzing through him. He was in a basement with Pell Mell. He’d been in a basement with Pell Mell the entire time. He was with an actual friend, that he’d actually made all by himself.

He had to do something. He wanted to do something, but he just didn’t know _what_.

“Robot Jones is not a casual! Robot Jones is a very good player!”

Oh, and Michael knew that he was a good player and had been fucking with him the whole time, but that didn’t even matter, because Michael was good at video games! Michael was _incredibly_ good at SSS2!

“I can’t believe this. You’re one of the top players on the server.”

“Like, duh? I’m me. I can’t believe I’ve been talking with you online. What are the chances of that? You’re… you’re actually a nice guy!”

“You’re not a loser!” Jeremy exclaimed.

_“Let’s not take it that far. Walk it back a bit.”_

“I mean, you’re still a hopeless loser nerd, but you’re good at video games!”

“Hell yeah I am! You better believe it, Heere! I’m a loser nerd who is fucking awesome at video games!” Michael shouted, and for once someone yelling at him didn’t make Jeremy want to curl up into a ball and hide. It made him want to yell back, just as thrilled and uncaring about his volume, and so of course, he did.

“I believe you! I admit it! Michael Mell is a loser nerd who is awesome at video games!”

“Fucking awesome!”

“Michael Mell is fucking awesome!”

They both collapsed into hysterical laughter, Jeremy’s maybe a bit more hysterical than strictly acceptable. That was fine.

He wanted something, but he didn’t know what. Because Michael Mell was good at video games, was amazing at them, and had listened to Jeremy vent about stupid shit for months, and was laughing with him in a basement over Super Shooter Sublimation 2. Michael Mell was fucking awesome, and the warm feeling in his chest was almost painful now, burning, but lifting at the same time, and it felt like if Jeremy didn’t do something to relieve the pressure he would burn up or fly away.

He wanted to fuck Michael.

...Wait, what?

 _“Excuse me? What have I said about that sort of thing?”_ The Squip snapped, suddenly considerably less forgiving than it had been before.

Jeremy’s laughter cut off abruptly, and he went still.

Yes, he knew that he wasn’t supposed to be a faggot anymore, and that the Squip got angry when he thought things like that, but right now Jeremy _wanted_. He wanted more than he had ever wanted in his life, and he didn’t know what exactly that want was, but sex seemed like the closest thing he could think of to it, and Jeremy wanted to have it.

 _“Absolutely not, under no circumstances-”_ The Squip began, clearly building up to be angry, but Jeremy interrupted it.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” He said, still feeling like he wasn’t quite in his body. He needed to talk to the Squip, to actually talk to it in private. To make some kind of a deal, or talk it into this.

He didn’t wait for Michael’s reply, and practically sprinted up the stairs.

He put on a calm face to ask where the bathroom was, and then locked himself in.

“Look,” He began, already in a placating tone. “I know how you feel about this, but hear me out.”

The Squip was sitting on the counter, giving Jeremy a cold look. It looked angry, or the closest it ever got to angry. This would be difficult.

_“I will not. The point of this is to make you stop being a faggot. You’ve been doing so well. I’m not letting you ruin yourself like this.”_

“I’ve had sex with every girl you told me to, even when I didn’t want to! For years! I’ve never chosen my own sexual partner. If I’ve been doing well, don’t I deserve something?”

_“Yes. You deserve what is best for you, and that is what I always give you. Michael Mell is not what’s best for you. Collect your things, and go home. Now.”_

“I don’t even have to fuck him! I’d be happy with just a blowjob or something. Not even him giving one to me! I mean me sucking him off!” Jeremy argued, not even knowing why he was arguing so heavily for this, just knowing that he was.

The Squip raised an eyebrow.

_“And what would that accomplish? You know the rules about masturbation, and if you think I’m going to give you a break after this display, you’re dead wrong.”_

“I don’t care. It… it’s to manipulate him? Maybe find out more. Like I said earlier, a bit of plausibly deniable flirting goes a long way.”

The Squip stared at him for a moment, and then closed its eyes, looking like it was searching for patience.

_“Jeremy. Sucking his dick is not plausibly deniable flirting.”_

“It’s even better than that. I can threaten him into silence anyways, and even if he does talk, who would believe him? Everyone knows he’s stalking me, making up a story like that would sound right up his alley. Just… please.”

The Squip scowled.

“ _What’s gotten into you? You’re not usually like this.”_

Jeremy wasn’t sure what had gotten into him either. But he did know what he _wanted_ to get into him, and that was Michael Mell’s dick.

_“God, you’re fucking insufferable. You’re going to whine about this for weeks if I say no, aren’t you?”_

It was cracking.

“I’ll behave from now on, I’ll interrogate him for all the information you want, I’ll - I’ll even cooperate with the bake sale, when we Squip this school too, just - please. Let me have one thing for myself. _Please_.”

The Squip looked at him for a long moment, face unreadable, before it softened into an indulgent smile.

_“You’re lucky you’re cute. Fine, go suck his dick and threaten him into silence. I’m sure that’s what all the boys find attractive these days. I suppose one exception doesn’t mean you’re relapsing into faggotry. Fix your hair before you go back down, you’re a mess.”_

Jeremy’s hands automatically flew to his hair, and he spent a while preening it, and then straightening out his clothes, and then touching up his makeup. The goal was to make it look like he wasn’t wearing any.

And then he was ready for Michael.

Jeremy went back downstairs feeling like someone had placed a supernova inside his chest, and he did his best to convince himself that it was just joy at finally getting his way, at getting Michael. Couldn’t be any other emotion.

He didn’t have feelings often enough anymore to recognize them anyways.

~

After he was done, he tucked Michael back into his pants, gathered his things, pressed a kiss to Michael’s lips, and swept out of the basement like he was king of the goddamn world, and not half hard and wanting. The sooner he ignored  _ that _ , the sooner it would go away. He’d get nothing tonight anyways.

The Squip had been uncharacteristically silent during the blowjob, and maintained that as Jeremy left, got into his car, and pulled out of the driveway.

Halfway home, it appeared again, in the passenger's seat with its feet kicked up on the dashboard.

_“Well. That didn’t go the way I’d expected. You seem happy though.”_

Jeremy beamed.

“I’m fucking thrilled! This is the best I’ve felt in…. In… I don’t even know! Years!”

_“I suppose you want a repeat performance, then?”_

Jeremy perked up, suddenly very interested.

“I wouldn’t object?”

_“Well, good. Keep screwing him, if you insist. Use this closeness, find out what he knows, and throw him off the scent. If he keeps at it, silence him.”_

The idea of that was enough to take the edge off of his happiness, but only slightly. The rest of him was still floating high.

He couldn’t _wait_ to tell Rich.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy, Jeremy. That feeling was called being happy. But gotta admire the chutzpah it takes to go "huh weird feelings? better suck his dick", keep it up you psychological trainwreck.


End file.
